Silver Flames
by Loony Black
Summary: ... She had no right to demand or wish nothing more. Narcissa took an oath on herself to be not like her mother, to not put all the world's expectations in her son's shoulders. Based on the way he smiled at her, one hand in her hand and the other at her waist, she liked to think she succeeded. - Warning! Draco/Narcissa incest! Angst post-war! Chapter 2 up!
1. Ignition

**AN:** Okay, I dunno why but I like Draco/Narcissa. That's it. And then I wrote this angsty ANGSTY fic with a sorta happy ending, if that's possible. Draco/Narcissa incest, don't like it? Don't read it. Sorry for any mistakes, hope you like it! Reviews are much appreciated!

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She would die for him.

She would die and kill for him and yet she would go to her grave never knowing how he truly felt about her.

This knowledge sickened and consoled Draco at the same.

A lot of things sickened and consoled him at the same time, truth be told. The memories of nearly killing several people, the moment his hand shook cowardly when he pointed the wand to Dumbledore, the despair and fear of that goddammit battle of Hogwarts.

All of the scenes haunted him day and night, just like the Dark Mark in his bloody wrist. Wonder how his father was coping with Azkaban and knowing he went to that horrifying place to also spare Draco and Narcissa only made him feel worse.

Not that he thought of himself as a monster in any sense. He grew enough to learn better than that; he grew enough to know he shouldn't pay attention to the so-perfectly-defined line between good and bad that those stupid people loved to draw. Unlike his father, everything he did, he did for love.

That should suffice for washing his sins in the case of a post-death trial, Draco hoped.

A laugh struck him, shaking his body in the bed, when he remembered he had way a whole lot of sins to be washed. According the research he did some years ago, it was very common for a young boy to feel attracted by his own mother and the feeling could remain until some years of puberty. Yet, it should go away in some point between the teens and the adulthood.

Unfortunately, it wasn't exactly what happened to him.

Sure, his mother was pretty. Beautiful. Gorgeous, in fact, but that wasn't really what he saw when he looked at her.

Narcissa was the epitome of every single thing Draco loved the most ever since he could recall being human. The way she sung him in her arms (Lucius never did that), the smile on her face when he sang any stupid song (Lucius never quite smiled to him like that), how she could cast a spell on his bruises and stay a long time hugging him ever after the pain was gone (Lucius never hugged him for more than 1.5 seconds).

Surely Lucius was a good father, caring and responsible, but he was as tender and gentle as an ice stake. He had taught him how to be a man, how to be strong and mature, how to position himself amongst the layers of the wizard society, how to behave in a way that could honor the Malfoy and the Black names. He _made_ Draco a man.

But Narcissa somehow made him a human.

It was already too late for him when asked, he would reply his mother was the most beautiful thing in the world. That he hated girls, all of them, except for his mother. When anybody asked him what he wanted to be when he grew up, he just answered he wanted to have his father's life, exactly the same.

It wasn't until the point somehow reminded him that to be his father, he would have to marry his mother and sleep with her, the group of early teenagers laughing and mocking him as if it was the most absurd idea in the world while Draco chewed the realization he would fucking _love_ that.

Not that it really changed anything in his life. The feeling was always there, he was just oblivious to that, and the awakening didn't shock him or took him out of his balance. It was surprising, yes, but the few unsuccessful attempst of ripping that odd love from his chest quickly made him give up.

He loved her and that was it. Along the years passing by, he started to notice that he probably loved Narcissa much more than his father did; she sometimes seemed to long for some caress, for a longer kiss or a warmer hug, and Lucius would simply deny her that without even noticing. He was always too worried and too busy to waste his time with bigger demonstrations of love.

Draco never actually doubted he loved her, though, and he could clearly see the point of a relationship getting worn because that was happening to him and Pansy too along the years. But the soft and sick love he felt for Narcissa didn't seemed to fade, remaining a burning flame that only got brighter and more powerful.

He would die for her. He would kill for her. He would give his life for her and the war reached a point in which he had nearly to do it. He took the mark and made the promise and hated his father for tangling them in that fucked-up drama although he surely worried about Lucius' life too.

But no reason, absolutely no reason was greater to push him on than the love he felt for Narcissa.

It pushed him beyond his limits, it wiped away the desperate tears in his face and it made him try even knowing he would most probably fail. Whilst, the hatred he felt for both the Dark Lord and that fucking stupid Boy Who Lived grew wilder in his heart.

If it wasn't for them, he could be at home with his mother. If it wasn't for them, maybe his father would give his mother the love she deserved. If it wasn't for them, maybe he wouldn't wake up so many mornings to see her red face, raw from crying, and curse himself knowing he couldn't do nothing about it.

Then the war was over and after many trials and testimonials, him and his mother were pardoned and his father sent to rot in Azkaban for life. The Malfoy Manor stood tall, all carved in marble, pure and untouched yet empty and sad – exactly like its owners.

Narcissa was trying to carry on as she always did, as everybody else did, but the emptiness of her days and the loneliness of her nights were making her depressed. Draco got tired of trying to force some sleep into himself and got out of his bed, putting a t-shirt and heading for his mother's chambers. She never slept early anyway and he could certainly use a pleasant conversation to erase those insistent memories off his mind.

It was with no surprise he found a faint sound of crying coming from the closed door. Considering some moments, Draco knocked on the door audibly, hearing the crying stop.

"What is it, son?" Narcissa's voice came low and weird making him sigh.

"Open up, mother, please."

"I was sleeping." She retorted, sniffing, and continued with something he didn't cared to hear when he interrupted her.

"You were crying, I heard it, mother. Please, talk to me." Draco spent some minutes standing there in absolute silence, without knowing if she was ignoring him or going for the door. The click of the locker took him out of his thoughts and he smiled to himself a little bit. She would never ignore him.

Her eyes were all red, just like the tip of her nose, lips swollen and face still wet. She was beautiful, even with the years taking its toll in her lovely face, and Draco suppressed a wish to kiss those tears away.

His hands touched her face and she immediately crumbled in his arms, weeping harder this time. The man calmly conducted her to inside the room but stood up, holding her, wishing he could do anything, _anything_ at all to make her happy.

It was still odd to be taller than her, taller than his own father, and it seemed strange for a moment how he was holding his mother exactly like she held him many times, wishing to make her happy just like she wished him to be happy all of her life. It hit him like a rock, the perception he couldn't imagine how it was to love anyone more than he loved her.

"Mother, I know, calm down, I know." His lips were in the top of her hair, hand brushing it kindly, and Narcissa sniffed again, bending her head enough to look at him.

"You don't, Draco." Her voice was stronger this time, a determinate look in her eyes. "I lost everything. All we always were, gone… And you, you soon will find a woman and marry and make your own family. I will have _nothing_."

Draco felt stunned looking into her bright, lost eyes. She actually believed that. She actually was sure he would leave her alone to make his own life and abandon her as if she was a toy with no more use. She believed that and it was written all over her face, all over her watery eyes.

If not despair, he couldn't name the feeling that washed over him and he knew, he fucking knew he would regret that when he pressed his lips against hers. Draco knew not even hell had a place bad enough for people like him, even if all he felt was love. He also knew the world didn't had a hole deep and black enough for him to stuck his head and die when she would push him and slap his face.

But the pushing never came, just as the slap. His mother simply backed away a little bit and smiled at him, shaking her head.

"Draco, darling, you can't kiss me like this anymore." Her voice was so soft and weak he felt his own eyes burning, thinking perhaps the slap would have been better. "You are a grown man. Only little boys can kiss their mothers like this."

The sobs came shaking his body much before he could think in avoiding it and he embraced her with all his strength, lifting her feet of the ground. Narcissa held into him, her weeping lighter, hand smoothing his back in a protective motion. Now he definitely felt like a monster.

"I know mother, I know. I'm sorry." The words came almost unintelligible and he couldn't let her go, he didn't want, _ever._ "I just wanted to make you smile."

His face was so miserable as hers when he first entered the room, and she did smiled when he put her on the ground again letting her go.

"It's okay, darling." Narcissa's hands circled his face, thumbs caressing his cheeks, and she stared the ground. "It's not your fault, it's mine. I've been too lonely." When she stared him again, there was some pain in her expression. "You had always been a wonderful son, none of this is your fault."

Draco gulped, holding back his tears, trying to understand. _I've been too lonely_; did she mean…? Did she…? His brain was stuttering, understanding her phrase in hundreds of different ways. He was too drowned in the stupor to react when she walked away from him, tightening the knot in her velvet robe and sitting at her bed.

"Please let me be now, Draco. I know you love me and your love and support means everything to me." There was something fake about the smile she gave him but he couldn't put his finger on it. One moment she was there, connected with him, and in the other she was a world away. He stumbled onto his own feet, feeling cold and alone. "And I love you too but for now I want to rest."

He pictured himself going for her and kneeling at her feet, holding her hands and kissing her thighs, murmuring he would do anything to make her happy; he wanted to make her feel good and _never_ feel alone again, he could be her new husband, her old, he could be better than Lucius ever was.

But the only thing Draco did was nod and retreat, closing the door when he left and walking with no right destination. Had he gotten so sick to the point he was hearing things that Narcissa never actually said?

The blond man eventually reached his bed and fell on it with a thump, choosing to believe on it. She didn't knew and she would never know, despite the undying flame in the core of his chest. Draco wiped his face in the pillow and covered himself, wishing that tonight, just tonight, sleep would come easily.

It didn't.


	2. Sprawl

**AN**: Wow, polemics! As I told before if you don't like, just don't read it. I'm not endorsing any behaviour, this is FICTION. And here's the second part, soon enough comes the end. Thanks for the nice reviews and I hope you like it. =]

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It was haunting him, taking the place of the war and bad memories and infiltrating into his skin like foul water. _I'm feeling too lonely,_ she had said, looking at the ground, _You are too old to be kissing me like this_. Draco pondered if he was actually, finally and predictably losing his mind.

"Mother, you have been too unmotivated." He sighed finishing his toast. "Yes, I know you have all the reasons to but… You are still alive. You are here." She felt herself go soft under the caring look in his eyes. "Maybe you should go back to your hobbies. Did you had any?"

Narcissa smiled. It was fun to realize her son knew so few about what she did in a daily basis, but it wasn't strange. How could a boy that spent most of his life at Hogwarts know what his parents did every day?

"I enjoyed playing the piano, sometimes the harp, singing and dancing along with your father." Her voice was almost inaudible. "I used to watch some concerts and go shopping as well. But now most of my friends are dead or jailed and…"

"That's easy. Let's ask the elfs to dust off the piano and you can play while we sing." His smile was so bright she actually thought it was a good idea. Sometimes Draco made everything seem alright again, as if everything was _whole_, even if the sensation lasted only a few moments. "Or better yet, lets charm the piano to play and we can dance."

It was foolish, she knew it. Nothing would ever go back, she wouldn't be as happy as she was before. Her husband was gone, her sister was dead and the little boy that was her son had turned into a handsome man that seemed to carry the weight of the world in his back. The more Narcissa stared him, the less she could believe how Draco turned out so tall, so intelligent, so exhausted and so beautiful.

_Hogwarts steal our sons from us,_ she thought for a moment, _and war ages them_. Sometimes all she wanted was to crawl under her fur blanket, wrap her arms around someone and sleep without the chill shaking her bones, without the pain reverberating in every corner of her mind. When she was younger, she shared her bed with Bellatrix and ended up being too used to the notion of a warm body next to hers.

In her teens, there were often friends and boyfriends sharing her pillow. Soon she became Mrs. Malfoy and Narcissa could in fact count in the fingers of one hand the total amount of months she had faced a cold bed alone. That was, until the war exploded and her life crumbled in front of her eyes.

"Come on." The young man got up and offered her a hand. She considered some moments, wondering if whether she would enjoy the dance or break into tears again from memories of a time long gone. It was with some hesitation she accepted his invitation.

Draco conducted her with the pride of a king until the entertainment room, where lied dust and forgotten various musical instruments. The only one he charmed, however, was the piano and a somewhat jolly song started to play on its own as her took his mother in his arms to dance.

Yes, it was painful, to stand there again, to dance again, to spin again in the arms of the only person left for Narcissa to love; but it was pleasant nonetheless. Draco inherited Lucius grace and swift movements and he smiled so wonderfully that before she could even notice, she was smiling and giggling too like a little girl in the arms of a first love.

She was too lonely for her own good and the war had made her weak and frail, she was still smart enough to realize it. Narcissa was looking at her son as no mother should; she wanted to sink in his arms and sleep against his chest as no good son would allow a mother to. The harshness of the reality hit her worse when Draco picked her up, swirling, and placed her on the ground again towering her.

She was lost and the saddest part was she had nowhere to return.

It certainly didn't mean she would inflict her son her own horrendous feelings and insights, surely. When he kissed her in the lips, so gentle and obviously desperate to stop her crying, she hadn't have strength enough to push him, but backed away when the impulse of leaning against him struck her. Draco didn't deserve any of that.

He was her son. There was nothing she wouldn't do for him and as any dutiful mother, she didn't expected nothing from him but kindness and love. She had no right to demand or wish nothing more. Narcissa took an oath on herself to be not like her mother, to not put all the world's expectations in her son's shoulders.

Based on the way he smiled at her, one hand in her hand and the other at her waist, she liked to think she succeeded.

By the end of the song, they were both flushed from laughter and from the exercise, breathing a little heavier and chuckling like two fools.

"Mother…" Draco held her face with one hand, blinking, his face getting a strange expression. "I love you." She grinned back, trying to understand him.

"I love you too, sweetie." He frowned, looking like a confused child for a glimpse of second, his eyes on the ground. The song definitely died and none of them moved to charm another one; they just stood in the middle of the room in silence, still entwined and drowned in thoughts.

Before she could formulate a phrase, Draco glued his lips on hers again, his eyes squeezed shut, and it wasn't kind and soft as the other kiss. _Oh,_Narcissa thought as his lips pressed hard against hers, it was the kind of kiss she used to receive from insecure young men in Hogwarts. It was the kind of kiss Lucius gave her in their first years of marriage. Exactly the kind of kiss that, despite the fact a mother shouldn't want, she craved for.

_No,_ it was her very second thought, her hands disobeying her brain completely as they went to hold his shoulders. _I can't,_ her fingers looked for a piece of uncovered skin until they found Draco's neck. _Oh hell,_ she gave up holding him and pressing back, her body aching for contact, her heart aching even more.

His eyes snap open of pure and complete surprise only to find Narcissa kissing him back, eyes shut and her fingers brushing his neck. _I lost my mind,_ Draco thought stunned, feeling his hands trembling. His arms circled her waist anyway; if that was a delirium, he would do well in enjoy it until the dream was broken.

But it was no dream, Narcissa knew it too; his hands wouldn't shake in a dream, his legs wouldn't stand poorly, her neck wouldn't ache from bending to meet him up in the kiss. A dream was a beautiful projection of a desire, free of flaws and fears, hanging in the last hope of a desperate need and crowning a perfect imaginary event.

There was _nothing_ imaginary about that moment.

When they finally pulled apart, the rush of emotions hit her stronger than ever and Narcissa felt her own face contorting in a weep, the sobs slowly taking place. It was so awfully wrong yet it felt incredibly good; she was suddenly not alone anymore but she knew too well it wouldn't last. This time, the woman allowed herself to cling to her son's chest and cry, absorbing his perfume and clawing her hands in his back.

Draco kissed the top of her head, repeating he loved her, he would never leave her, he only wanted to make her happy. Narcissa believed him with every fiber of her shaking body and wished hard she could cast her ghosts away and pretend everything was fine just for the moment, just for that night.

She couldn't.


End file.
